


Eyes On The Prize

by paperclipbitch



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Contests, Costumes, Dadpool, Fic Exchange, Fluff, Gen, Halloween Costumes, Sewing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A trophy, huh?” Wade says.  “Can’t I just steal you a pony?  A live one, this time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes On The Prize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kat_scarlett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_scarlett/gifts).



> Written for **kat_scarlett** for the Spoopy Halloween Fic Exchange.

Ellie is excited, bouncing and gleeful about something, and it’s not even taco day, so it must be something big.

“Daddy!” she says.

Wade’s been gutted three times today and he can’t remember if he put clean underwear on between any of those things, but hey, sometimes your daughter takes priority over that personal hygiene thing you don’t care that much about in the first place.

“What’s got you so happy?” Wade asks.

And regrets it, as Ellie immediately starts telling him about this Halloween costume contest – it’s Halloween _again_? Wade’s pretty sure it was Halloween last year and everything – and how when you win you get a trophy, and she wants that trophy so _much_ , daddy, _so much_.

Wade does not have a good feeling about this. It’s like a Spider-Sense, except that it’s a Deadpool-Sense, and it can spot things that are going to go to shit from a mile off, just so he can go ahead and do them anyway.

“A trophy, huh?” he says. “Can’t I just steal you a pony? A live one, this time.”

Ellie folds her arms and pouts and looks alarmingly like her mother.

“Okay,” he says, “look, we’ll go to the costume store, pick you out something awesome.”

Ellie shakes her head. “No, daddy, it has to be _homemade_. You have to make it yourself!”

Right. Okay. Wade can handle this. His baby girl wants a homemade costume to win a contest. He can handle this. Ellie needs an amazing homemade costume. He can do that.

-

“No,” Emily says, that terrifying frowny look coming over her face. “No, Wade, I am not making Ellie a costume.”

“Is this ‘cause you’re already making Jeff one?” Wade asks. 

“No,” Emily says, “it’s ‘cause I’m not making anyone a costume. I did four years of nativity plays, I’m done.”

“Right,” Wade says, “okay, I respect that.” He shuffles his feet. “Pleeeeeeeease, please, make Ellie a costume! A great costume! _Pleeeeeeease_!”

Emily hikes an eyebrow. “Are you asking me because I’m a woman?” she demands, tone dangerous.

“No,” Wade says, “I’m asking because you’re a robot. Duh. Quick robot sewing hands.”

“‘Robot sewing hands’ aren’t a thing,” Emily tells him. 

“Are you sure?” Wade checks.

“I’m sure,” Emily says. “Go make the costume with your daughter. It’ll be good bonding.”

Wade’s ideas for costume making have so far involved stapling napkins to garbage sacks, and that’s only if he can steal some napkins from Emily without her noticing. He’s going to have to dream bigger.

-

“No,” Peter says. “Also I am like ninety percent sure that the fate of the world doesn’t hinge on me sewing you a tiny Disney princess dress, I don’t know what you’re actually up to-”

“You used to sew all your own costumes!” Wade protests. “You could totally make a tiny Disney princess dress!”

He hasn’t actually asked Ellie if she wants a tiny Disney princess dress, but he’s pretty sure she will, in the scheme of things. Hell, _Wade_ wants a Disney princess dress; maybe he’ll wear one next time he reboots.

“Copyright infringement,” Peter tells him. “And my sewing skills are terrible, ask Daredevil, he used to sew his.”

“He’s _blind_!” Wade reminds Peter, “he won’t know what a Disney princess dress looks like! He thinks that costume is a good idea!”

“No,” Peter says. “But, you know, good luck with whatever your creepy quest actually involves.”

“It’s not creepy!” Wade shouts, as Peter walks away. “It’s actually charming and heartwarming and is going to be tagged with ‘fluff’ when it gets published on AO3!”

Peter doesn’t turn around. Wade frowns and reconsiders his list of options.

-

“My superhero costume is a t-shirt,” Clint Barton says, “why would you even come here?”

“Point,” Wade agrees. “Also: what the hell, get your shit together, Barton. Remember when you used to wear that purple dress thing? Now, _that_ was a costume.”

“It was a tabard,” Clint says, and pouts.

-

“Do you want one of my old costumes?” Wade suggests to Ellie, over milkshakes.

Ellie screws up her nose. “Your old costumes smell funny.”

His girl is not wrong. His new ones smell pretty funny too.

Wade is running out of people to call. He thinks Punisher might make his own costumes, or at least he owns a can of white spray paint and a big skull stencil, anyway, but that team ended pretty badly and even if he had Castle’s number it’s doubtful that he’d pick up.

“Do you want to dress like that one from _Frozen_ with the snow and the hair and the severe emotional problems?” he asks Ellie, because, hell, maybe he can just buy her a blue dress and glue some glitter to it or something.

Ellie gives him a look that makes him wonder exactly who the parent is in this relationship; that happens way too often, he should ask Emily about avoiding that.

“Who do you want to dress up as?” he asks, and hopes she says something that can be easily assembled with glue. He’s really warming to this glue idea.

“I want to dress as Marie Curie,” Ellie says. “But with a labcoat.”

Wade considers this. “Can I put glitter on it?”

Ellie pats his hand. “If you want, daddy.”

-

Sewing machines are vicious as all fuck.

“What the hell?” Wade demands, the third time the needle goes straight through his finger, because he’s pretty sure the instructions he didn’t read didn’t mention anything about any part of the sewing machine crunching through bone. He’s kind of impressed.

He sticks with it a bit longer, and then calls Emily.

“I’ve sewn my hand to Ellie’s costume,” he explains, flapping said hand, but the stitches hold tight. “The sewing machine is a monster and I’m surrounded by about eighty metres of tulle and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to change my codename to Labcoat Hand Man, which is, you know, still more creative than Iron Man, but I bet I’ll get laughed at anyway.”

“You already get laughed at,” Emily says, flat, “people think you’re wearing a knock-off Spider-Man outfit imported so cheaply they couldn’t even get the colours right.” She sighs. “And if you’re making a labcoat, why are you surrounded by tulle?”

Wade shrugs, and flaps his useless hand some more. “The author’s only eighty percent sure what tulle is, and also, it sounds like a funnier kind of fabric than lots of other options.”

Emily makes that sound that means she’s warding off a migraine, even though she’s a robot who can’t get migraines. “Okay, Wade, you need to detach the labcoat from your hand, and then you need to get rid of it, because Ellie isn’t going to want to wear it if you’ve bled on it, and then you’re going to make another one, and you’re not going to attach it to yourself this time.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Wade mourns, and Emily hangs up on him.

He waves his hand around some more, and debates his career as Labcoat Hand Man.

-

Ellie comes second, and she gets a ribbon and some candy and the opportunity to tell all the kids in her class, who are dressed as Disney princesses and guys who’ve punched Wade in the face and other assorted children things, endless facts about Marie Curie, and they all have to listen. She’s very gleeful about that last point.

The kid who wins is dressed as Spider-Man. 

Wade is absolutely going to exact some kind of revenge on Peter, he’s just not sure what, yet.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the trophy, kiddo,” he tells Ellie, hoisting her into his lap. Her hair is piled up messily and it’s soft when he rests his cheek against it.

“It’s okay,” Ellie tells him, waving her ribbon at him. “And anyway, there’s always next year.”

“…right,” Wade says. “Next year. Sure.”

He makes a mental note to spend the next year running up favours and/or practicing his blackmail techniques. Next year, someone else can face the sewing machine of death; he’ll just take care of the glitter.

He’s getting surprisingly good at that bit.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I've never written for Deadpool before, or really read any fic for him, so... I don't know if there's a protocol! Like, Wade casually breaks the fourth wall all the time in the comics, but I have no idea if he does in fic? So I just let ridiculousness dictate this story, and hopefully it was okay, but I'm super sorry if it wasn't!


End file.
